Nighttime Companions
by Nadya-child
Summary: This is the third in a series of thrall stories that I have been writing. This thrall and Domitor actually like each other.


**Editor's Note**: Though based upon the clans, coteries, caste system, and society of White Wolf's extensive "Vampire" universe, these characters are solely my creation so please don't steal them.

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His day's sleep would be wearing off by now, she knew, but she was pretty sure she had enough time to finish her supper before he was fully awake and then she could mix his drink. 

Suddenly, cold lips stole a kiss from her neck, causing her to jump! "Dillan!"

"Evening, gorgeous," he chuckled and then the tall vampire took a seat on the couch, slouching into the most perfect sprawl known to the undead, and watched her quietly.

It was one of the things Aenique loved about Dillan Cormine: how laid back he was, even after seven centuries. Of course, she had only spent the past two with him but he had changed very little within that time even. He embraced the times as they changed but remained ever himself.

Having finally finished her supper, Aenique rose to mix Dillan's drink--his beloved blood beer. When she was through, she poured the mixture into a tankard and, with the air of a barmaid, presented it him.

"Here ye are, sir," she giggled.

"Ah, sweet girl. Dear girl," he crooned, savoring the draught as he rested his foot on the coffee table. "Shall we go out tonight?"

"I wouldn't mind it," she admitted, this pretty blonde who sat on the kitchen counter, clad in a cropped off t-shirt and jean shorts.

"How about a movie? We could see that...what is it? Kingdom of Heaven."

Aenique nodded as he lifted the tankard to his lips again. He loved the character of beer in a cool metal mug, he said.

"The theatre will be cool...dark...empty. It _is_ Monday night, after all. Just how we like it..." Aenique murmured as she hugged him from behind.

Dillan grinned and nipped her hand gently, not so hard as for his fangs to pierce her skin, just tease her a bit. "Yes, just how we like it."

Aenique purred a little and then straightened. "Well, if we're going, I need to dress."

As she disappeared into the bedroom, Dillan sat and mused as he downed his blood beer. Two hundred years...it didn't seem that long, really. And even after all this time, he still could not understand why Aenique was so stubborn about the Embrace. What was so fascinating about the sun, honestly? It's just a huge ball of gas that will burn itself out some day.

_'And gods willing, I will be there to see it.'_ Dillan chuckled to himself. But, yes, Aenique was being stubborn about remaining a thrall and not becoming a vampire. "Not just yet," she always said and Dillan always acquiesced; he wouldn't force her, not give her a choice, just as he hadn't been given one. Though it would be nice to have someone to wrap his arms around when he went to sleep each dawn.

"Ready!" Aenique soon returned to the room, pulling on her jacket.

Dillan just smiled.

The theatre was indeed empty, a great happiness to vampire and thrall. The graphic battle scenes reminded Dillan of days gone by and he quietly corrected a few things as they story unfolded, aquiline nose wrinkled. He really did like folks to get their facts straight. He stroked the inside of Aenique's wrist and kissed it gently so as to not cause her to squeak, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Yes, darkened theatres were a dear happiness to them both.

As they walked down the sidewalk after the movie was over, Dillan offered Aenique his arm.

"Such a gentleman..." she sighed dramatically amidst a close-lipped smile.

"Well, I am not your average Damned," he whispered in her ear. Being as old as he was, Dillan mostly forewent the society of other vampires unless it was absolutely necessary, being tired of the politicking between coteries. This Gangrel was personally unaligned and was quite happy to be so; however, he was dutiful to make an appearance in society if ever his presence was required. He would give no interloper or vampiric higher-up the reason to come against him in anger or vengeance. He really was quite charming whenever he chose to be. Aenique could attest to that, having been a simple store owner's daughter when Dillan had first met her in London. He had charmed her right out of her boots, if he remembered correctly. And her skirt and her hat...

They soon stepped into a jazz club and made their way to Dillan's favorite booth in the back. Observe but be unnoticeable was a tenet that he held dearly, which is why he enjoyed this booth. The club itself was much better than the rundown holes-in-the-wall that call themselves jazz clubs. Classy yet comfortable. That was the motto of the Black Dove. Soothing music poured forth from the stage and a bar tender soon brought drinks for the two: a German beer for Dillan and a custom made (i.e., extra chocolate) mud slide for Aenique.

Dillan took a long draught of his Guiness and, settling back to sprawl slightly, his arm over the back of the booth, smiled at his thrall. "So, what shall we do tomorrow night, love?"


End file.
